


Fetch

by fremen_wali



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, I don't know what to type here but it's cute, Pre-Slash, cuteness, kind of. if you squint., sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fremen_wali/pseuds/fremen_wali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet I did for a friend. Derek's wolf is a lot more playful than he is. Stiles takes sick glee with this fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fetch

**Author's Note:**

> This is ridiculous.

The first time it happened, Stiles and Scott were on the field and Stiles had just finished flinging a bag of lacrosse balls into Scott’s chest for practice.. and cathartic release.  
Scott picked one up and threw it back and Stiles caught it easily, tossing it from one hand to the other, the sound of it smacking into his palm intensely satisfying.  
He started to lope toward Scott who was pulling off his goalie gear by the net when a figure in the treeline to his left caught his eye. Derek, brooding as always. 

“Sourwolf!” Stiles greeted happily as Derek came towards them, grinning when Derek’s eyebrows furrowed impossibly further at the nickname. 

“Scott,” Derek began, ignoring Stiles completely. Whatever. He’d expected nothing less from the Alpha. Stiles shifted his weight to one leg, beginning to toss the ball up in little arcs in front of him. 

“I’ve lost their scent.”

“Whose?” asked Scott, clueless as always. 

“Erica and Boyd,” Derek and Stiles said at the same time. Derek stared at Stiles for a long second before continuing, eyes tracking the ball’s movements.

“They chose to leave my pack but I’ve been following their trail for the past week, until last night. I lost it completely and I might.. I might..” Derek’s voice trailed off as he watched Stiles juggle the single ball. 

“Need Scott’s help?” Stiles said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah..” Derek replied, surprised.

“Well I mean obviously you still care about them, even though they dumped you like a sack of gnarly angry wolfy potatoes,” Stiles said, starting to spin the ball over his hand. Derek growled, low and under his breath. Stiles jumped, dropping the ball to the ground. 

“Did you just?-” Scott raised an eyebrow at the Alpha who fixed both teens with a stare. 

“You’re distracting me,” Derek said finally.  
\------------

Stiles jumped, dropping well, everything, closing his bedroom door and turning to see Derek, standing in the corner, looking like Heathcliff on the darkest moors ever moored. “What the hell, bro?!” Stiles started to shout, quickly lowering his volume at one, the purely evil look Derek gave him and two, because he remembered his dad was downstairs. 

“What the hell, bro?” Stiles repeated in a whisper, clutching his heart dramatically.

“I need you to do some research,” Derek said matter of factly.

“Yes sir,” Stiles said, eyes widening and face contorting mockingly. He went to his desk and pulled out his chair, plopping down and spinning to face his computer.  
He opened the laptop with one hand, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a tennis ball with the other, bouncing it against the wall while he waited for the laptop to boot up. He kept up a steady rhythm, thud-catch, thud-catch, and when Derek suddenly snatched it out of the air, Stiles groaned in disappointment. 

“Why?” Derek demanded, crushing the tennis ball with his claws.  
Stiles prised the broken remains of the tennis ball from Derek’s hand, bottom lip pouting as he threw it in the wastebasket sadly. “You’ve noticed, perhaps, that I’m a little..” 

“Obnoxious?” Derek offered helpfully.  
Stiles raised an eyebrow.  
“Hyperactive,” Stiles corrected. “Dad thought it would be good for me to have something to do with my hands.” He shrugged, turning back to the computer. He missed the longing look Derek gave the wastebasket.  
\------------

Everything clicked the next Wednesday, when Derek met Stiles out in the school’s parking lot by his Jeep. They were going to pick Scott up from work and then head out to the spot Derek thought the Alpha pack had set up basecamp. Stiles was leaning against his car, bouncing a giant Superball on the ground in front of him alternating which hand he caught it in. 

“Stiles, I…” Derek stopped, eyes narrowing in anger at the Superball. Stiles stopped bouncing it, throwing his hands up in frustration at Derek. “What now?” Stiles asked. He noticed Derek’s eyes never left the fist clenching the ball. Stiles lowered his hand. Derek’s eyes followed the motion.  
Stiles grinned, a slow spread of glee.

“Derek,” he began slowly, wanting to drag the moment out and enjoy it forever. “Do you want to play fetch?”  
Derek growled, seething. “Just throw the goddamn ball, Stiles,” he ordered.

Stiles’s face hurt from smiling. He’d never get this chance again, he knew it. He lifted his hand, making sure Derek was tracking the movement, taunting him with the ball until Derek’s eyes glowed red, fangs beginning to protrude. Stiles threw the ball as hard as he could, a beautiful arc overhead, landing a good distance away, in the trees near the edge of the parking lot. Derek gave an honest to God ‘yip’ and spun, running after the ball. He snatched it up with his hands (no claws, Stiles noticed disappointedly) and ran back to Stiles, dropping the ball as soon as he’d skidded to a halt, the Superball rolling under the Jeep, lost. Stiles tasted blood in his mouth, he was biting his lip so hard to keep from laughing. 

Derek’s face was stony, warning Stiles. “If you tell anyone about this moment, I will rip your throat out and bathe in your blood,” he said seriously, a slight flush on his cheekbones. “Mmmhmm,” Stiles managed with a nod, forcing his face into a neutral position, turning to walk around his Jeep to the driver’s side. He called over the hood of the car, “Just get in the car. Do you want me to roll the window down so you can hang your head out?”

The bruise he got from Derek slamming his forehead into his steering wheel was totally worth it.


End file.
